


to have a fraction of your life

by mollivanders



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: (they say each other's names a lot but lbh about the dialogue), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Dialogue Light, Established Relationship, F/M, Fingerfucking, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-08
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-29 08:28:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11437032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mollivanders/pseuds/mollivanders
Summary: “Does it hurt?’ he asks and she shrugs, rolling her shoulders to test herself.“I’ve had worse,” she says. Her voice is becoming a distant and faraway thing as Cassian’s breath travels across her skin, taking in the truth of her words. Marks from Wobani, marks from her time with Saw’s partisans, and all the ones in between.She leans forward on the tips of her fingers, letting Cassian inspect her. At first, his touch is light and studious.A moment later, it’s not.





	to have a fraction of your life

**Author's Note:**

> A plot bunny that wouldn't leave me alone and I mean "plot" very loosely. Have mercy on the poor fanfic writer. Very much PWP. I had trouble pulling lines for a summary that would be okay for all eyes. I think the title might be a Hamilton line, so jic. It's 3:30 am, please bear with.

After three days of being stuck at this outpost, Jyn is positive.

She kriffing _hates_ the jungle.

They’ve been stationed here to make contact with one of Cassian’s embedded contacts in the Imperial town, and sneaking on to the planet had been a task in of itself. Bodhi had flown them in under cover of darkness nearly thirty miles from the ruins where they would be stationed. It had taken them two nights of jungle marches to cross the distance and her muscles are still groaning in protest.

Bodhi wouldn’t be back for another eight days – a whole three weeks on this fetid planet – and by now, Jyn isn’t sure if she or Cassian hates this rock more.

She knows who hides it better.

To ease the boredom, after a full day of Cassian bent over maps and fiddling with the comm system and of Jyn disassembling, cleaning, and reassembling their weapons kit, they go for a run around the ruins.

Her body welcomes the release of a run, stretching out aching muscles overtaxed from a jungle hike, as they run lap after lap. The ruins stretch above them in the falling light, half-hearted towers scraping at the sky. Craning her neck up as she runs, she toys with the idea of who had built them.

A puzzle of caves interlace with fading towers of stone and steel. Piles of faded orange brick are littered around them, crumbling off the intricate structures above, and she stumbles over one with her eyes lifted above her. Next to her, Cassian catches at her arm before she falls and they barely break their pace. He doesn’t slow his speed to accommodate her shorter legs, but she keeps up with him all the same.

The sweat falling from her brow slides down her neck and she pants, putting in another burst of speed. She’s out of practice, but not for long.

(Around them, the jungle is heavy and still.)

Cassian lopes beside her, the strands of his hair matting to his head in damp tangles. He’s pushing just as hard as she is. Stealing a look, her eyes travel down the taut line of muscles strained to their limit, a different heat curling low within her. She licks at chapped lips, thoughts racing ahead of her.

Rounding the corner of the outpost, the mineral springs that are their final target come into view. Before they’d come here, she’d read they had healing properties, but all she cares about is the relief they offer. Sprinting ahead, she pulls off her shirt before she even makes it to the edge, and her shorts follow suit as soon as she stops. Looking straight ahead at the springs, she peels off her underthings.

She doesn’t want them soaked when she gets out.

As Cassian pulls up beside her, she dives into the springs headfirst. There’s a sharp mineral scent to the water but it’s a cleansing balm on her skin and she surfaces, shaking water off like a dog. Cassian glides into the water next to her, covert and quiet. When he comes up for air, her eyes track the path of droplets washing the sweat off his skin.

She wants to _taste it_.

It’s been more than a month since they’ve been on a mission together at all, and longer than that since they’ve had more than a single night on base at the same time. Jyn knows how to do without but now, as Cassian swims a little closer, slow movements keeping him afloat, she can’t quite look away.

Though his eyes shift, his mouth betrays no amusement. She bites her lip, holding her tongue as he closes the distance between them. Her legs kick futilely at the water, trying to focus on anything other than the sight of him.

(She isn’t going to give in that easy.)

“Better?” he asks, his voice a soft rasp after the run, and she nods. The water is shallower here and he braces on the bottom, his hands finding a home at her waist. Even the lightest contact is a shock to her nerves and she sucks in a breath, drifting closer.

He’s staring at her the way he does sometimes and she knows she’s mirroring him, but even through the oncoming fog in her brain she’s aware of the setting suns, feels the growing jungle darkness. He swallows, eyes drifting to her mouth and she drops her forehead against his, measuring her breaths.

“Jyn,” he says and she locks gazes with him for a moment before his tongue darts out, catching droplets from his lips. “Jyn, we should head back.”

(His hands are firm at her waist, inviting and familiar. If she pulled just a little bit closer – )

It takes all her effort to let go but she does, ducking below the water and shaking herself free.

There’s still a long walk back to camp.

+

They dress quickly, not bothering to dry themselves in the muggy jungle air. The trek back isn’t as long as she imagines but she’s still keenly aware of every brush of his hand against hers, of every crunch of the leaves under her boots. They don’t talk, worn out as they are, and her thoughts eventually wander back to the day’s tasks and what lies before them.

(Perhaps tomorrow, Cassian’s spy will make contact.)

The cave they’ve holed up in is much like the first one Saw had taken her to. Cassian breaks off from her to check the comm system for messages while she wanders over to where they’ve laid out their bedrolls.

Her clothes stick her, turning her skin clammy after the long run around base and the trek back. Still aching from the run, she peels off her shirt to inspect herself. She’s covered in scratches, and she can feel a bruise forming on her back where a branch had swung back and caught her. Without a thought she tosses her shorts with the shirt and kneels on the bedroll to dig out fresh clothing.

Gooseflesh pill on her skin, the soft rustle of fabric barely giving him away the moment before he kneels behind her. She relaxes, looking over her shoulder as he traces the bumps of her spine. His fingers stall, resting on the edge of her fresh bruise.

“Does it hurt?’ he asks and she shrugs, rolling her shoulders to test herself.

“I’ve had worse,” she says. Her voice is becoming a distant and faraway thing as Cassian’s breath travels across her skin, taking in the truth of her words. Marks from Wobani, marks from her time with Saw’s partisans, and all the ones in between.

She leans forward on the tips of her fingers, letting Cassian inspect her. At first, his touch is light and studious.

A moment later, it’s not.

His fingers catch on the edge of her breast band and she feels him freeze. Slowly, as though he is in the same trance she seems to be caught in, his mouth drops to the base of her spine. She feels him lean down a moment before the wet mark of his mouth licks against her back, suggestive kisses that steal a soft moan from her tongue.

His name falls from her lips, a prayer and a curse, but he pays her no mind.

Instead, his hands slide from her waist down below the elastic of her underthings and her lungs empty in a single breath. She knows his touch, knows him, _missed him_. Instinctively she covers his hand with her own, reaching the other back to grip his thigh behind her. She’s aching, but not from the run.

(For all that matters, they are the only two people on this planet.)

“Keep going?” he asks, his voice running through her body, and she sucks in a breath. He stills over her, pulling his hand back as she braces her knees wider. Out of sight, she brushes her fingers against herself, trying to form the words. She can grasp at only two words to tell him, two words to live by now that they’ve begun. She manages to get them out.

“Don’t stop.”

“Okay,” he murmurs.

She just barely catches the wet _pop_ that comes with Cassian pulling his fingers from his mouth before he slides his hand back between her legs. He cups her lightly at first and she catches his stifled groan as he traces her folds in familiar wonder.

“Jyn,” he says, the word more raw than she’s heard in far too long, “ _Jyn_.”

The light touch of his damp fingers is unbearable and she jerks against his hand, a jumpy movement that makes him laugh against her neck. He comes to her rescue quickly, easily, and she doesn’t quite stifle the noise she makes as his finger curls inside her, another stretching her further.

She only has one word left for him, her body crackling with possibility as her hips roll in a tight circle.

“More,” she pleads and he’s not laughing this time. She’s soaked, want slicking through her underthings as the wet sound of his hand against her fills her senses and makes her jolt. His thumb moves in an urgent pattern and she cries out as he presses against the bud with quickening friction. He’s saying something to her, she doesn’t know what, as she bucks against him, answering him with nonsense. Her hand is tangled in in his hair, holding on for dear life, and she whimpers as his free hand shifts her leg, giving him better access.

She wants, she wants, she wants _him_. His name falls from her mouth, his arm holding her up by her waist as he sucks her throat. She’s panting, desperate, and turns her head, seeking his mouth.

(The air crackles, a thing alive.)

“Cassian,” she gasps, his name an anthem on her tongue. He finds her, his tongue sliding against hers as she struggles, aching, to finish as she tires. He’s drawing her out, making up for lost time.

(After all that time, now she’s drowning in him.)

His hands are spy hands, hacker hands, hands that free and hands that escape – hands used to small, delicate spaces.

“Come on, Jyn,” he gasps into her mouth, and bites at her lower lip. His voice is a whisper, spooling inside her. He slows, twisting his wrist for a new angle and she shakes with pent up release. “Come on.”

Her head falls back as part of her dies, a shot in the dark. Another part of her breaks, black stars in her eyes, and she slumps against him with a soft cry.

Cassian presses a softer kiss than the last one to her temple, pulling his hand away from her, and she shudders with the loss. He leans back when she turns around in his arms, bracing herself on his shoulders as she shakes her head.

“Oh no,” she says, and tips him back onto the bedroll. “You better not give up on me now.”

Crinkles pull at his eyes as he smiles up at her, relaxed for the first time in who knew how long.

“I’m with you all the way,” he says and her mind flashes back to a very different scene. She rolls her eyes, swinging her still shaky leg over him.

“All the way,” she echoes, leaning down to press a sweet kiss to his mouth, her fingers tracing the edge of his jaw. He frames her face in turn and she catches her scent on his fingers.

If she's going down, she thinks, he's coming with her.

+

The next day’s tasks go quietly as they settle into their routine, waiting for a signal. With little to do but think, her mind wanders, and the memory of his body ghosting over hers lends a flush to the early morning. When she tries to subtly press her thighs together, an errant thought of the strained breaths and erratic strokes that had finished her the night before, Cassian's eyes smile knowingly.

_Damn._

(At least, she thinks, she is not alone in this. She’s got his number.)

But just as she’s starting to feel restless enough for a run, the comm system chimes with a new message. She looks over at Cassian, expectant.

“Erlos can meet,” he says, relief in his voice. “Two days time at – ” he squints “– someplace called Jungle’s End.”

She arches an eyebrow at him and he figures it out at the same time she speaks.

“Cantina,” they say in sync and her heart sinks.

Another hike through the jungle at night it is.

They pack up their things quietly and Cassian frowns as he deflates the bedroll into its travel-friendly size. They'll hide most of the supplies here and hopefully come back for them. With the Rebellion, it was never a sure thing. She helps him pack, more frustrated at the interruption than the return of work.

The jungle hike goes easier than the last one, and if Cassian is suffering like she is, he’s better at hiding it. They don’t talk much, staying quiet in the dark foliage as they focus on the hidden path and survival. The days are quieter as they hoard sleep in turns, keeping watch for Imperial patrols. Travel at night, rest during the day.

It’s kept them alive this far.

When they get to the cantina, the exchange with Cassian’s contact is simple and quiet, as it should be. Both of them are skilled at what they do, and while his contact isn’t a soldier, she provides regular, invaluable intel. From what Jyn had heard, she’d been the one to first pass whispers of an _Erso_ to the Rebellion.

(All it had cost – and all they had gained – came down to the smallest cogs in the Rebellion, stealing resources and time from the Empire.)

With who knew how little time left, Jyn wasn’t about to waste any of it. As Cassian locked the door behind them, Jyn surveyed the room. A real bed, a ‘fresher, and a closet for the weapons. Erlos was a reliable contact.

“We’ll leave tomorrow night,” Cassian says. “The innkeeper who owns this place agreed to let us stay through the afternoon.”

Jyn nods, satisfied with the room’s layout. It was even defensible – there was a window at the top of the stairwell and two exits besides the front.

“It’ll work,” she says and then realizes that Cassian is watching her, something more behind his eyes. “Right?”

He nods, closing the distance between them. “I was thinking,” he says, “about how we shouldn’t leave here until tomorrow.” Hope burns in his eyes. “It’s a lot of time.”

Her stomach flips in anticipation and she fails at pretending nonchalance. “Oh?” she asks, voice breaking and Cassian ducks his chin. “That’s good.” She clears her throat and pulls at his belt, tugging him closer. He stumbles, catching himself on the wall behind her, before leaning down to kiss her.

Despite all the travel and exhaustion that had come with it, a swoop of adrenaline sings through her and she arches on her toes to reach him better. “Bed,” she mumbles against his mouth and he hums assent, stepping them backwards to it. She pushes his leather jacket aside – ridiculous for this weather – and pulls his shirt over his head, taking advantage of her shorter height to swirl her tongue against his nipple. She feels his groan run through her as he falls, and finishes undressing quickly.

Crawling over him, she has something in mind.

She wants to relive the other night.

+

The air in the cave hangs muggy and thick over them, made worse by the fact that Jyn’s hair has fallen from her bun. It spills over her shoulders, the clasp that held it back lost to the world. Beneath her Cassian is twisting the bedroll in his fists, taut muscles flexed to their limit. He tilts his head back, neck exposed, and she bends over to suckle a kiss at the hollow of his throat.

So much of her life with the Rebellion was about function over form, expediency over emotion.

(But not with Cassian.)

The sound he makes twists inside her and she drops her head, letting the tips of her breasts drag against his skin. Lazily, she reaches down and rolls her fist along his length once more. He’d caught up to her quickly, hips thrusting in anticipation. When she leans back up to kiss him, he traps her mouth against him, loose words slipping between them as he loses control.

“Jyn, please,” he gasps, and she feels the tip of him thrust vainly between her legs, his hand tangling in her hair.

(It’s only exactly what she wants in the first place.)

Leaning into the kiss, she braces herself on one elbow and sinks down onto him slowly, keening into him as she stretches around him. He freezes under her, eyes locking with hers, and drops his hands to her waist.

“Are you okay?” he asks and she nods, biting her lip, shocks of pleasure skipping through her.

“Really,” she breathes out, slowly pushing herself back up and dropping kisses down his stomach along the way, “really, okay.”

He grins, shining in the darkness, until she lifts herself back up and rolls back down. He swears in a language she doesn’t know, his back arching under her as his excited thrusts meet her along the way. She gasps, sweat falling in her eyes as she sinks back down, trying to pick a steady pace she can drag out just a little longer. Her knees are starting to give her hell but she doesn't care.

(She’s making up for lost time.)

But she’s already oversensitive, the ghost of her first orgasm calling to the second, and before long her movements are erratic, her rhythm lost. The sound of their bodies meeting grows louder in her ears and she steals a kiss from him as she clenches down. Cassian catches her frantic pace and slides his hand back between them, rubbing at a spot that had not yet forgotten him.

And suddenly she’s babbling, reaching, bursting, mind gone static and lost to the world. Her muscles tense, seizing around her, and whatever restraint he had left collapses as he thrusts up into her, spent at last. His name lingers on her lips as she falls next to him, prone and content.

Comfortingly, he gently drapes her thigh back around his waist and shakes a light cover out over them. If it weren’t for the cave, and the jungle, and the humidity that trails down her back and neck, they could almost be on Echo Base, in the home they rarely see. Here, at least, they are tangled together.

She blinks, steadying breaths mingling together, and catches his eye.

“All the way,” she mumbles. He has no quick reply, no declarations – only a last, sweet kiss before exhaustion drags them away.

+

By the time they make it back to the caves from the town, they still have half a day to spare before they leave for their exfil with Bodhi. Jyn is determined to make the most of it. As Cassian drops his pack in the cave, cracking his neck in relief, she catches at his hand with the tips of her fingers.

“Run?” she asks.

They run.

The first sun is rising high in the sky as they set out, and by the time they hit the mineral springs the heat is almost oppressive. When she pulls herself out of the springs, mind running ahead to the night trek before them, Cassian stops beside her.

“I actually like this place,” he says. She arches an eyebrow at him suspiciously and rocks on her toes as he kisses her, a soft touch that sends wires through her body and ground her to him.

“We still have to pack,” she says reluctantly. He’s supposed to be the responsible rebel. She’s really no good at it.

“Not yet,” he says, eyes glinting with promise. “I want to show you something.”

Her heart skips as he drops to his knees.

(All the way.)

_Finis_

**Author's Note:**

> There are lots of languages in AGFFA so I wanted to mention I didn't have any specifically in mind when writing this and consciously chose not to use specific words given the circumstances. I also imagine Cassian can swear in as many languages as Jyn, though it happens less frequently.


End file.
